Our first trip to Camerino since the big freeze, for a little extraction, both dental and financial (I really hate paying for pain). The whole town was adrip. From every eave handsome iciles were succumbing to the February sun. Those renaissance guys, fine with chiarascuro and golden section, not so good with roof insulation.
Pretty as they are, hanging from medieval facades, I couldn’t help calculating trajectories and considering perabolas – iciles would fall straight down, right? but then there’s the posibility of an avalanche from one of the four-storey roofs. Death by impalement vs death by smothering, that old chestnut. In the end we decided the middle of the road was safest. We then had to contend with the fleet of lorries busy bussing out vast loads of snow. I don’t know where they are taking it, but if I hear one word about drought this summer I swear the mayor will consider death by falling icicle a merciful release.
